An Antivan Nightmare
by Asirus
Summary: Lyna Mahariel hunts through the fade for the Sloth demon and her missing companions; while she fears for them all, her minds eye is focused on a certain elven assassin.


_Had this idea rattling around after going to do Broken Circle with my newest character. Yes I know I've taken some liberties with the dialogue and the setting. And what happens. Oh well?_

_Character is a female Dalish elf, romancing Zevran, who she brought to the tower to recruit the mages._

_This is my first fic, please be gentle. (I tried to check it for grammar and all that, but I very well may have missed some things, feel free to let me know if there's anything glaring.)_

_Disclaimer: As always, Bioware owns everything good, including Dragon age and Zevran and all that stuff._

* * *

Lyna shimmered into being on yet another island in the Beyond, feeling slightly disoriented. She had just left the mage Niall's side and used the strange pedestal yet again, hoping to find her companions so they could get out of there.

She had already defeated two of the five demons that were supposedly maintaining the wards around the Sloth demon that trapped them there. After the second victory, Niall had pointed out to the elf that the runes shown on the glassy surface of the pedestal were slightly altered, now showing a new island beyond the original five and the representation of Weisshaupt, where she started. That new island was the one she was set on exploring next.

Lyna was worried. She hadn't found any of her companions yet, and while her own prison had been fairly benign, Niall had implied that this wasn't always the case. She felt a sharp pain in her chest when she let her mind dwell too long on what might be happening to Wynne, Shale and Zevran while she tried to find a way out. The diminutive elf knew Shale was probably fine. She was a bloody **golem** after all. And Wynne, well, the mage gave off an air of peaceful confidence that was hard to counter. Surely she wasn't too bad off. Zevran though... Lyna cut the thought off, frowning. He was just as capable as the rest of her currently lost party members, she told herself. No need to fuss over him. Still... even though they had both agreed to simply savor each moment as they came, no strings attached - easy come, easy go, as it were - the Dalish elf couldn't help but be drawn to the Antivan. Silently berating herself for her unacceptable, yet growing attachment to the elven assassin, Lyna carefully looked over her new surroundings.

This area was different from the others she had been too, which were mostly blurry corridors lit partially on fire, demons popping up from around corners every few feet. It seems the Sloth demon had spent slightly more effort constructing this zone, which resembled a dungeon more then anything else. Everything here looked substantially more... **real** then the rest of the Beyond, and Lyna wondered why. Slinking forward, her longbow held half-drawn in front of her, the rogue crept carefully down the dark hall towards the only visible door. It was half open, a ruddy light spilling out from the room beyond; she paused in the shadows, listening carefully for any hint of what might be on the other side. Lyna heard nothing at first, but then a pained groan broke the silence, followed by a harsh laugh.

"I think I saw him flinch that time," a man said with a smirk in his voice. Lyna's eyes widened slightly when she heard the Antivan accent. She didn't recognize the voice, but she hoped this meant Zevran was nearby.

Another voice, again laced with that rolling accent, cut into her thoughts, "Maybe... We'll make you scream yet, apprentice."

There was the brief sound of gears and twisting ropes before the first man spoke again, "We're not going to go easy on you," there was a sharp intake of breath before the man continued in a menacing hiss, "Trust me..."

Lyna hazarded a quick peek around the edge of the door before ducking back into the shadows. She had seen only two elven men, standing on either side of a strange table in the center of the rather large room. She couldn't see what was on the table, as it was tilted up slightly away from her, but she had noticed a pair of wheels attached to it on either end and a mess of ropes draped across it and crisscrossing the bottom. With a slow breath, Lyna prepared to enter the room and find out what was going on, when a third voice froze her in place.

"No..." Another pained groan, and then he continued, his voice strained, "I wouldn't... want you to hold back. I'd be... disappointed if you d-did." Lyna felt a familiar sharp pain in her chest, her eyes going wide when she heard the normally silky smooth voice of the Antivan assassin drift through the doorway laced with pain. After a half-second of shocked hesitation, the elf exploded into motion as a lance of pure rage flew through her. The delicate seeming archer stepped through the doorway, her longbow drawn and held tight in her hand as her furious violet eyes sought out the nearest elf.

Letting the arrow fly without a word, she smoothly reached back to ready another before the first had even reached it's mark; the second man had time to draw a sword as she took a bead on him, her first target flying backwards with an arrow sticking foolishly out of the middle of his forehead.

"Who the hell are you?" asked the elf-shaped demon. She recognized his voice as the first speaker... the one who had laughed and apparently turned the wheel. Eyes narrowed, she answered his question by releasing the arrow for the center of his forehead. The demon, failing to move aside in time, crumpled to the ground with a feathery shaft sticking out of his left eye. Lyna was already moving before he finished falling, dropping her bow and darting forward, her eyes on the figure tied to the table.

She edged around the table to look upon him, his name on her lips, "Zevran? Are.. are you alright?" His eyes were closed, his hands curled tightly around the ropes that bound his wrists. His normally neat blonde hair was clinging to his skin, his temples damp with sweat. Lyna immediately began looking for a way to release him, but paused when he spoke.

"Ah... a new tormentor is it? I must admit, it may be harder to focus with such a lovely hand turning the wheel." His golden eyes met her violet ones without a hint of recognition, and the Dalish flinched.

"Zev.. don't you remember me?" He raised an eyebrow at her use of his nickname, but didn't speak. Lyna stared at him for a moment, then drew the dagger the assassin had once insisted she keep in her boot, intent on cutting him free. She was reaching for the ropes binding his legs when he said, "Ah, the blade is it? And here I thought we were having so much fun with the rack."

Lyna clenched her teeth and did not respond, determined to help him out of the obviously uncomfortable position and THEN help him remember where they were. She sawed carefully through the ropes at his feet then moved up to free his hands. She avoided his gaze, not liking the coldness she saw there. Perhaps if she had been watching him, she'd have been prepared for his sudden movement as soon as the ropes were cut.

One hand snapping forward to grab her left wrist - the hand holding the dagger - and sliding gracefully off the table, the assassin rushed forward, slamming her hard against the nearest wall, the forearm of his free hand against her throat. So startled was she that Lyna didn't even think to resist, though she inhaled sharply when she felt the cold metal of her own dagger at her throat.

Golden eyes harsh in the ruddy light of the room, Zevran glared down at her for a moment. "More tests is it? And here I thought the purpose of this excersise was to prove a tolerance of pain. Well, what is it to be this time?" He put emphasis on his words by pressing down slightly with the dagger, drawing a tiny drop of blood.

Violet eyes wide as she stared up at her closest companion, her occasional lover, her friend, Lyna wondered how she could get through to him while pinned to the wall with a dagger at her throat. Moving slowly and obviously so as not to incite further violence, she shifted her right hand to his face. His eyes narrowed at her movement and she paused just short of touching him, swallowing hard; knowing that if she didn't get through to him they would both be lost, she forged ahead. She lifted her hand the rest of the way and trailed her fingertips delicately along his tattoos, a move she'd replicated many times in the privacy of her tent.

Zevran's eyes flickered slightly at her touch, his face tense. "Please..." she whispered, her eyes locked on his. Not daring to raise her voice, she implored him, "Please, you have to remember, Zevran..."

His whole body tensed when she breathed his name, his eyes going suddenly wide. "L-Lyna?" He released her abruptly and backed away, a horrified look on his face as he dropped the dagger with a clang. He stared at the trail of blood on her neck as he continued backing away, "Lyna, oh Maker what... I almost..." He turned away from her and shuddered, his hands braced on the rack and his head bowed. Recovering her balance, Lyna touched a finger to the minuscule cut on her neck. While she was relieved that Zevran seemed to have recovered himself, she had never seen him look so upset; the playful, flirty demeanor usually exhibited by the elf was gone, his mask shattered, at least for the moment.

Moving forward on silent feet, the Dalish reached out to touch the Antivan's arm, drawing back slightly when he flinched. "Zevran," she started, "It's alright Zev, look." She touched his arm again, drawing him around to face her. She looked up at him, and was surprised when he refused to meet her gaze. She reached up to grasp his chin, forcing the taller elf to look at her as she said, "I'm fine, I promise. See? Not even a large enough cut to warrant a poultice."

Lyna didn't like the haunted look in his eyes, so she touched his cheek and asked in a quieter voice, "Are you alright?"

He started as if slapped and suddenly his mask was back on, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Ah yes, quite alright my dear Warden. You just reminded me of someone for a moment there." He trailed his fingers through her loose ebony hair, his other hand brushing down her side to rest on her hip. Leaning down slightly, he placed a tender, somewhat possessive kiss on her pale pink lips. When he pulled back and noticed her dainty blush, he smirked and said, "Now, shall we get out of here and carry on with our journey, my dear?"

She stared at him, not quite buying the _I'm Fine, Everything is A-OK_ routine, but she nodded anyway. "Yes, we need to find the others and..." She cut off suddenly as she noticed the odd flickering light around him. Zevran blinked at her and asked sharply, "Wait... what are you doing? Where are you going?"

Lyna backed up quickly as he dematerialized before her very eyes, the alarmed look on his face etched into her memory. After a few moments of staring blankly at the space where he had been standing, the elf sighed and picked up her weapons. Lyna readied her bow as she padded back down the hallway, determined to use the pedestal again and get them all out of this horrible place.


End file.
